What the fuck is this? Guilt? Regret?
No… something worse. An ache that only gets worse with every scream that loops on screen, a hollow pain as if her suffering carved something out of me without permission.
Blyat. My fist tightens, but the feeling doesn’t leave.
A knock interrupts my thoughts. “Enter.”
Dmitry’s massive frame fills the doorway. His eyes catch on the floating images, but he knows better than to comment.
“Mitch is conscious.”
I lean back, studying the clear liquid in my glass. “And?”
“Not a word.”
“Make him talk.”
“Da, boss.” He hesitates. Something’s eating at him. “What… what’s your plan for Elijah?”
The question hits like a bullet. My grip tightens on the glass. “What’s it to you?”
“The boy is innocent in all this.”
“You think I don’t know that?” The words come out like ice. “He’s leverage.”
Dmitry’s face hardens. “Children shouldn’t be leverage.”
I’m on my feet before I realize it. “Watch yourself.”
He shifts—unusual for the killer I know him to be. His eyes drift to another screen showing the feed from Clara’s room. Elijah clutches onto his mother.
“The boy…” Dmitry’s voice roughens. “He reminds me of Sasha.”
The name hangs heavy in the air. Dmitry’s nephew. Dead at six from leukemia.
“Your point?”
“Just… the way he holds that Pikachu. Sasha had the same one. Wouldn’t let it go, even in the hospital, when—” He cuts himself off, jaw tight.
I study my most loyal soldier, the man who’s killed without hesitation. Now undone by a stuffed fucking toy.
“The boy isn’t Sasha.” My voice comes out harder than intended. Because that kid’s face—those curls—hit too close to home.
“No.” Dmitry straightens. “But maybe that’s why she fights so hard. Like Katya did, trying to save Sasha.”
His dead sister. The unspoken weight of family—lost, broken, stolen—fills the room.
I grab the decanter. Pour two shots. The routine of it steadies my fucking hands. Dmitry downs his without flinching.
Good. Back to business.
I turn the security feeds off with a sharp gesture. Enough of this sentimentalder’mo.“Get creative with Mitch. I want answers.”
The screens fade to black. Better. Cleaner.
“And Dmitry?” The vodka burns, but my voice comes out frozen. “Don’t let feelings cloud your judgment. They’re a liability we can’t afford.”
Like you haven’t spent the last hour staring at her tears, mudak?
